


six feet beneath

by ineedjeffrey



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:47:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27714977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineedjeffrey/pseuds/ineedjeffrey
Summary: — just angsty markhyuck
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13





	six feet beneath

Mark smiles against the flashes, occasionally hearing compliments from the photographer for his talent in posing for the camera, like he isn't a complete wreck behind it. He fakes a laugh, complying to the request of the photographer for a candid shot.

It's easy for Mark to do this sort of stuff. Posing, modeling, endorsing. It is in his line of expertise, something he brags about whenever he's given the chance. He likes compliments just like most people in the industry. It's the fuel that drives him to do more, to please more people. Over time, he nurtures the thirst for compliments; the unending desire for gratification that he constantly seeks in the studios he's been, the places he's gone, the people he's met.

He was a sucker for compliments and praises, so when someone who didn't even extend an effort to look at his direction came to his life, he knew it would leave an impact on him. 

And that's what Donghyuck was there for. He was the constant reminder that not everyone gets swayed by cheesey English words, and god-like visuals. Not a slicked back hair had the power to sway Donghyuck nor did Mark's oozing appeal, and Mark hated it to guts.

Maybe it's his competitive and insecure side, or maybe it's just his undeniable interest for the young makeup artist. Mark found himself staring for too long, smiling too wide, thinking too much about everything that came out of Donghyuck's equally mischievous mouth.

Narcissists like Mark Lee would never bother to look at someone else other than themselves, but Donghyuck was the exception. The rapper could look at him for the entire day and it wouldn't become a problem. 

"What do you think?" Mark asked as he fixed his tie.

"Pretty much okay. I'm not your stylist, why are you asking me?" The younger responded, brow raised implying a cocky tone. 

"Well, maybe you could cut some slack and be nice to me today." Mark retorted, bent down to tie his expensive leathers. 

To that, Donghyuck smiled. Nice to him? He thought. He's always been nice to the model. So awfully nice that he hid the giddy smiles, the butterflies in his belly, the sudden tension he felt when the older is in close proximity. He's nice enough to keep his distance from the person that he knew would never look at him the same way. 

"What do you mean? I'm always nice to you." Donghyuck replied. 

And to that response, Mark smiled. Maybe Donghyuck was too nice, or maybe Mark thought being nice was a love language. And he hoped it was. He hoped that the sudden concern on Donghyuckʼs face meant more than just concern. He hoped that the sudden calls meant more than just reminder of their awful situation of being somewhere between friends and lovers; between sweethearts and acquaintances. 

Mark, however, enjoyed the moment. He enjoyed the short-lived phone conversations, drunk realizations. He enjoyed and lived in the moment. He enjoyed the times when they'd be left alone in the dressing room, and he got to indulge in the sleeping face of Donghyuck.

He enjoyed too much that it took him a lot when he realized it was over.

Now he sits alone, a beer bottle on his shaky hands. He wanders his eyes on the wet grass, and it's late when he realizes it's pouring hard. He thinks too much of the past that he forgets where he is. He stands up shakily, fingers fishing for the car keys on his faded blue jeans.

"I'll see you tomorrow, baby." He whispers, and without hearing a response, he walks away from the piece of land where his young makeup artist lay lifeless six feet beneath.

**Author's Note:**

> concrit is welcome :))


End file.
